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Monday, May 12, 2014

The Huge Roses: Chapter Four, part one

American nurse Tory Bird, visiting Amsterdam with her
sister Jane, meets Dr. Maximilan van den Nie whilst giving first aid to
an injured English tourist. After a lovely weekend, Tory returns home to the United States, daydreaming of the handsome Dutchman. To her surprise, Max arrives in Tory's New Hampshire village a few weeks later!

THE HUGE ROSES (working title)
copyright 2014 by Betty van den Betsy; not for reprint or publication without permission

Chapter Four, part one:

CHAPTER FOUR

The doctor lived up to his self-imposed
ban on Tory’s company, bar sending flowers and a brief thank-you note, and she
went about her days much as usual.If
she kept watch for the big Mercedes, or scanned the horizon during her daily
walks with more attention than in the past, those were small things, and she
knew she’d quickly get over them.It was
odd – weird – monumentally coincidental – that their ships had passed twice in
the night, but coincidences happened.

She did spot a shining Land Rover
parked outside the Shop ‘n’ Save one Thursday, and inside the store wondered
which of the handful of strangers might be Max’s housekeeper.Probably the middle-aged, blond man in a dark
suit.Who else would wear a suit to the
Shop ‘n’ Save?

A few days later, as she walked to
the community center, she saw Fleurie Gold holding open the door of Golden
Treasures.Today she was a vision in
cotton-candy pink silk, with a cerise blouse.Apparently for Fleurie, four-inch spiked heels were the norm, even in
rural New England.As usual, her face
was a flawless mask of foundation and rich color, and her hair could feature in
an overpriced-shampoo commercial.She
smiled vaguely in Tory’s direction, her smile seeming to fade as she took in
the bulky parka and hiking boots.“’Afternoon,” Tory greeted her.

“Oh, hello,” Fleurie replied.“I do
know you.I thought I did.I have a memory for faces – and the last face
I saw you with was especially
memorable.Our new neighbor.He was very interested in having me show him
a bit of Hanover, and a place to get a decent meal.I could tell the poor man wasn’t expecting
anything quite so...” she paused, looking arch, and then trilled a laugh that
didn’t occur in nature, “quaint, I guess.That’s this town – quaint.”She
bestowed a triumphant yet pitying smile on Tory, who could only murmur, “Oh,
yes.We’re quaint, all right.”

“Well, ta ta, then,” Fleurie
concluded, closing the shop door, and Tory walked on, her usually light step
taking on a trudging note.If Fleurie
Gold was the doctor’s idea of an enjoyable companion, she could just stop the
horizon-scanning right now.In fact, she
ought just to stop anyway.Women like
Fleurie and the juffrouw she’d met in Amsterdam, who could buy couture clothes
and achieve perfect make-up, over 30 and incapable of blushing, were the type
who dated the Maxes of the world.

The following week, though, brought
exciting news at the office:when she
settled down with Dr. Bachman and a mug of tea to recap the day’s activities,
he asked about her continuing-education efforts.She reminded him of the online courses she’d
taken – neonatal care, adolescent psychology and cardiac rehabilitation were
the most recent – and proposed an evening course in geriatric nutrition at the
university starting in the new year.

“Very good, Tory,” Dr. Bachman
approved.“But I’ve got a great
opportunity for us both right here in the office.You know the man who’s living at Josh
Brown’s, and working with him on orthopedic research?He’s also got a project in Europe around
elderly ortho rehab, and I’ve proposed collecting some data for him based on
our patients and others in this area.You’re welcome to join me, and we’ll both get credits we need, and most
likely learn some useful approaches.”He
then added on a tangent, “I enjoyed working with Janice” – his previous nurse –
“but it’s great to have you here.She
spent most of her C.E. time on dermatology.Dermatology.Not our most pressing
need.”

“Teenagers?” Tory proposed
tentatively.“It helps build a
connection?”

“Ha!” said Dr. Bachman.“More like middle-aged boomers.Tory, the day I have to go the Botox route to
keep this practice in the black...” he faded out, and sat glaring at his desk.

“Well, I’d love to help with the
ortho project,” she interjected after a moment.If she didn’t bring the conversation back to a more constructive
subject, he’d get going on obstetrical malpractice insurance costs, and she’d
be there through dinner.

“Wonderful.Geriatrics has always been a big part of this
practice, but it’s the wave of the future all over the country.You’ll build some great career skills with
this one.I’ll let Van den Nie know
we’re on board.”

As she chopped onion and mushrooms
for a stir-fry that evening, Tory reported on the conversation to the
dogs.“I doubt Max will get involved
himself,” she speculated.“I mean, not
with our bit.But he’s obviously very
smart, and designing high-caliber research, so I’ll learn a lot.And I don’t need to see him personally, after
all, to learn from his work.It’s not
like we have anything in common, even if we did get on well that one day.Well, two days.”She wondered what the doctor was having for
dinner, and whether he ever prepared his own meals.What did having someone housekeep for you
mean, exactly?Maybe Jane would know.

In fact, her oldest sister called
that evening, after Tory had washed up and taken the dogs for their evening
walk.She was scribbling a few reminders
as a grocery list – couscous, cloves, yeast – when the phone rang.Jane, just back from a business trip to St.
Louis, described the marvelous tea room she’d visited there, and promised Tory
a packet of their Bedford blend of green tea.She had also attended a fundraiser at the city’s art museum.“It’s a marvelous museum,” she said, “and
it’s free.So is the zoo.But they still got all these people to pay six
hundred dollars each to go to a cocktail party there.I mean, it’s mostly a donation, but I never
get over these black-tie parties to help the poor.”

“What did you wear?” Tory asked,
eschewing for the moment the grand philosophical question of caviar for
charity.

“Dark green silk, empire waist,
with spaghetti straps and a little velvet bolero-thing.I know this is practically the dictionary
definition of a first-world problem, but finding evening dresses that are warm
and at least a little bit professional looking is a giant pain.And then I’m not sure about the rules for
re-wearing dresses, but I’m going to keep this green thing going for a long
while yet.”

Tory laughed at her sister’s
peevish tone.Jane wasn’t a fan of
protocol under any circumstances, and when it concerned what she considered
‘first world problems,’ she could get very testy indeed.“Well,” she consoled, “at least you’re saving
the world with your bolero.And the
parties do get people thinking and talking about real problems.”

“Sure, when they’re not complaining
about the service.”

“Jennet and Hal are always
complaining about the service around here,” Tory joked.“They want three big walks a day, not just
two.Try explaining to them about the
need to balance sufficient income generation to keep us in kibble and the time
required for walks.They just don’t get
it.”

“Meanwhile, I can’t even keep my
apartment clean,” Jane laughed.“You’ve
got that entire house, grounds and menagerie in perfect order.How does she do it all?”Tory chuckled at the teasing, and thought of
Max with a housekeeper.

“Do you know anyone with a
housekeeper?” she asked.

“Oh, sure,” Jane answered.“Most of the portfolio managers at the office
have someone come in once a week to clean, and a few get made-up meals
delivered, too, but the senior partners usually have live-in help.”

“Oh,” Tory replied vaguely.“I wonder what that’s like.I kind of like taking care of myself.Although maybe a little less dusting and polishing,
and especially shifting furniture to get at the floors.”

“Actually,” Jane confessed, “I’m
hiring a weekly cleaner.And I buy most
of my food pre-cooked at the grocery store, so I just have to microwave
it.I love to cook, but if I’m working
ten hours a day, trying to fit in a work-out, and I need to read the paper,
it’s just really hard to make the time.Diane at the office has a dog, and she’s got a half-hour commute each
way, and the only reason she manages is because she gets her exercise walking
the dog.Almost all the guys with kids
have stay-at-home wives, and all the women with kids have full-time
babysitters.And the partners have both
wives and babysitters.There’s a snide
crack in there somewhere.”

“I’m exhausted just hearing about
it,” Tory said.They were both silent
for a moment, listening companionably for each others’ breathing down the phone
line.“I guess it’s really just not my
kind of world.”Tory summed up her
feelings about both Jane’s hectic professional life and Max’s upper-crust
milieu.

“Oh, darling,” her sister
protested, “ever since you were little you’ve had a natural grace and
ease.I think you fit in beautifully
anywhere you want to go.Of course, it’s
the ‘want to’ that’s the most important part.”Hanging up the phone a few minutes later, Tory thought about Jane’s
comment.She loved her life, but it
wasn’t entirely one she’d actively chosen.She’d settled in Bristol because she was happy and comfortable there;
she’d traveled a bit because her parents had taken the family off on research
trips, or because Jane or her college friends had invited her to accompany
them; she loved her career but she wanted... something else.She stumped slowly up to bed, pondering her
future.With her teeth clean, hair
braided and face shining with drugstore lotion, she curled up in bed with Fiona
on the quilt by her midsection, and drifted off to sleep contemplating the
directions she might choose to take herself.In the haze of fatigue, her eyelids seemed to be running a slideshow of
children’s faces, gardens, swings and pets and herself, smiling and content,
with a blurry man in the background.Tall, broad, blond and blurry.That night, she dreamed she was dancing with Max, in a 1950s hospital
ward lit with crystal chandeliers, her hair in pigtails and magical ski boots
on her feet, with cruise ships sailing by on the Danube outside a never-ending
row of Regency windows.She woke up
confused and oddly happy.

6 comments:

“He was very interested in having me show him a bit of Hanover, and a place to get a decent meal.”I knew it! I just knew it! Max went out with Fleurie?!!! How did that come about? Arrrgh! These RDDs! Always going out with the wrong kind of women! First the juffrouw, now the antique dealer. Poor Tory! Feeling she doesn't measure up ...

Good job, BvdB. It feels so familiar--the 'perfect' women, bragging about her relationship with the RDD, and criticizing the 'imperfect' competition. I'm feeling the bulky parka--so practical in a winter world of unpredictable weather and circumstances, and yet never flattering. Tory should run, not walk, on her practically shod feet to a girlfriend's house for a cup of tea, snickerdoodles, and a chick flick.

Maybe Fleurie can get in on the geriatric study for women over 30 who have feet crippled by wearing too-high heels....